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trashcanwriting · 5 years

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The Forest of God's Missing Eye

Chapter 1: Maurice Halpine and Clarence Dawyon

Summary:

As Clarence’s feelings towards the feral woman of the Forest becomes more clear, Maurice’s only becomes muddled.

Previous Chapter: Chapter 0: God’s Missing Eye

It has been a month since they had made camp on the mountain opposite of God's Missing Eye, the Forest so many had lost their lives attempting to come to, to find. No one had ever seen the beauty of it with their own eyes, other than the crewmen. The crewmen who had suffered months traveling three mountains now could see the Forest inside and up close. The photographs did not give justice to the actual thing.

The only photographs that captured the island Forest were from airships. Blurry and far from the source, because the moment air transportation got near the island, all controls would deactivate, causing the aircraft to plummet to the ocean below.

The same odd occurrence happened to boats, where the motor would shut off and refuse to restart. It seemed every step humanity tried to make towards the Forest was somehow blocked- until them. Obstructed by mother nature herself, the crew who finally arrived in the blocked land were nothing but advantaged.

Fortunate to be birthed during a time of technological improvement where automatic weapons and motorwagens could be purchased by bulk, a time where medical research had allowed a medic to have the supplies of a hospital office in a single seat vehicle, a time where canned foods could last them the year and a half they had planned to stay.

The crewmen were lucky, they were alive, and making breakthroughs the Great British Empire would feel for the rest of history, creating stepping stones for a colony in a place that had challenged the human race for years- and now had lost.

Clarence, a young scientist fresh from college, had played a hand in such a feat. He should feel pride and the overwhelming emotion of gratefulness he would experience this in his youth, where he could watch the years to come for what came of the hard work of the crew.

However, Clarence was far more concerned with how poorly his socks reeked, of how bored he was of heated vegetables and tinned goods- and how deeply he wanted to shower as his fingers racked his greased soaked mane.

Clarence was suffering from the part of the research expeditions no one prepares you for; leaving your comfy apartment in London to survive in a wilderness. Showering was far and few in between, the food was canned or the berries Doctor Halpine deemed 'safe,' and most of his clothes were fetor with sweat and filth. He always felt grimy- he hated the feeling. He hated living his life inside a tent, a small personal one where he could hardly sit on his knees in his cramped place.

It had been a month, and each day, the two scientist- alongside another crew member for safety- would adventure into the Forest to explore. After returning, worn and tired, he would eat a bowl of beans and whatever vegetable is about to wilt, before going to bed. He only had a few outfits, and each of them had the stench of his body odor as of late, so often he slept nude. The blistering mountain's heat played a factor, and he hated the weather- he missed the rainy days of London, where he could relax in his apartment, shower nightly, and read a book.

The heat was a shock to his system, he would never grow used to the hot sun gleaming down on his burnt skin, he would never grow accustomed to the reddened peeling skin of his exposed arms and neck, and he would never enjoy the constant supply of canned food they had to consume. These problems for Clarence hadn't fazed doctor Maurice; he had spent years dwelling in different harsh climates for the name of science. The only thing that held the older Doctor back was his lame leg, which helped him and Clarence to be on a far more fair playing field.

Clarence couldn't deny his appreciation for being on this trip, the first ever humans to make it to the forsaken land. The Forest God had kept from the hands of humans- now, he and a few selected people were making it possible for humans to own. He knew the Great British Empire would want to colonize this Forest in the next numbering years, after scientists like him and Maurice had combed the realm, photographing and analyzing each tree, each animal- each sand grain.

And God did Clarence want to do it. But he wished he had some mobilized home to stay in- not the tent, the disgusting thing. The fresh scientist would forever be too traumatized to camp for leisure ever again; he swore on his first-born son. He was happy for the rays of the sun to illuminate the thin walls of the cloth, stirring him from his light sleep.

He had never been a morning person. He enjoyed to sleep in until the afternoon the days he had free, reading a book late into the night until the words swam in his head, usually his mind creating the visuals of the literature as he slept. Nowadays, he couldn't focus on his favorite books during the nights, too much heat and exhaustion for his mind to concentrate on anything.

Once he had his boots laced, he clambered from his tent to find Doctor Hapline was already waiting for him. He was sitting on one of the logs they had taken for seating, whistling away as if he had no care in the world as he tapped his cane on the dirt floor. Clarence could understand the joy he felt; he had succeeded in his life work, after years of careful planning he had it in his grasp, and Maurice would never allow it to slip away.

After a quick meal of chopped boiled potatoes, the three were planning the walk for the extended path towards the Forest. The young man had placed some of the boiled potatoes in a metal container, plopping it within his messenger bag. Maurice had attempted to ask what he was doing, but Clarence waved him off. "Can't I have a snack?"

Maurice only shrugged, "Do not feed any animals these, we aren't disturbing the natural ecosystem."

"Now, why would I waste my food on animals?" Clarence had that smug grin of his, causing Maurice almost shake his head. The walk was quiet, as Mr. Underhill readied his rifle with the bullets he might need if they had run into any predatory animals. They had to walk slower, as Maurice's knee pain had grown worse with climbing about and walking for long periods. Despite having to live in the wilderness for expeditions since he was only a child, it had been years since he had been on one, and he was feeling his old age.

Nelson Underhill was a skilled hunter, having thirty years of hunting experience under his belt. Maurice had personally contacted him, offering the role on the research expedition with payment. Nelson couldn't deny an offer to be one of the first humans on God's Missing Eye.

Nelson was trigger happy, hoping to get an animal's corpse as a trophy for his study, to display to all of his hunting company to show his worth. Maurice had told him time and time again of how if they could help it, no animal would be harmed, much to Underhill's dismay.

Arriving at the ringed trees, the three men had to attempt to slide past. Many of the crew had spoken of merely cutting down the wall, yet Maurice was firm on his stance of respecting the lands as he called it. Despite his weak knee that had been injured trying to crawl through the narrow cracks, he still wanted to keep the property safe. He had resorted to using his cane, as the crawling through each day was doing damage to his joints. The three men had slipped past the trees yet again to enter the Forest.

“Alright, today we will go to the Northside.” Maurice announced, already hobbling off with Nelson quick to shadow the man. Clarence nearly rolled his eyes, beginning to trail after the two. Maurice had planned how they would explore the Forest each day, and without Clarence’s input. He felt like a prop rather than an equal.

Clarence hated he had to stay close to the crew, he wished he could break off and explore, taking samples and photographs on his own, but Maurice had insisted the unknown animals were unpredictable, that Clarence could get mauled just as quickly as the poor soul they had lost in the mountains.

He felt slighted by the fact that each day, since the Simian creatures and the unnamed woman, there has been no life seen in this Forest, except the plants. There were no animals to spook. However, Maurice had been so sure, refusing the younger man from his sight.

Nelson held his automatic rifle tight, ready to fire at the first signs of danger. He was trigger happy, so Maurice had to keep the man calm mostly.

As the usual routine, they were wandering near the tree barrier, snapping still lives of any organisms they had yet to capture in their photographer. Clarence took a peek at the puncture holes of the bark, the mysterious creatures or the Forest woman has yet to be seen again. As if she disappeared from the Forest, they had only seen her once- and Maurice was the only one who had seen her in person.

Did she exist?

As the men continued their hiking through God's Missing Eye, the three had begun a whispering, light discussion of the weather and how much longer they could handle eating potatoes before hearing the faint yelps and squeaks in the distance. It was in a whispering voice, trying to keep themselves quiet.

Maurice stopped the two, listening for a moment before he slowly hunched lower, the two other men copying his actions as they made their way through the bushes and plants, Clarence couldn't shake the feeling of being watched intensely now. The air had more moisture in this area; the floor was flooded and muddy against their feet.

Maurice gently moved the scrub, revealing the scene before the three. The hunter nearly shot, but Maurice grabbed the barrel and yanked it down, refusing to allow the creatures before him to come in harm's way because of a startled grown man. Nelson stopped in his tracks by the evident annoyance of the older man, kneeling as the other two had.

There was a large pond before them, roots and vines coming from the sides of the water. The bioluminescent algae shined a shimmering pink, making the scales of the creatures almost glowing. Two creatures had surfaced from the pond, their bony arms leaning lazily against the grassy floor.

The animals could be described as mermaids, but not the beautiful half-humans wrote about in literature. Their hair was dry, withered away only to have spotting gray hair across their skulls.

Their lower part was a muscle-bound, fish-like tail that was thicker than the rest of their body. The upper torso was covered in bony scutes. Their faces were sunken in, with small, buggy black serpent eyes. Their mouth was thin and pallid, without lips, so their long teeth were on full display. The rest of their body had a green hue, dark like the pond they were sticking out from.

The mercreatures were speaking to none other than the feral woman; she was on her knees, moving her head side to side as she squawks at them. In turn, they chirp and hum, seeming to hold a conversation.

After her being impossible to find for weeks, it was a shock to them all. Especially the hunter, who hadn't believed she had even existed before seeing her.

As they spoke, the larger mermaid came up further to the surface, grasping the feral woman's face with gentleness.

The hands of the creature had four digits, ending in claws, her fingers were webbed and covered in harsh scales. The mercreature was chirping quiet, as the feral woman leaned closer for the creature.

"Clarence, you take the photographs; yours is much quieter than mine," Maurice mumbled, as Clarence inched along with the scrubs, holding his photographer ready as he began snapping pictures.

His was a newer model, quiet and without the big flash of Maurice's. He promised himself when he returned to London. He was going to spend the funds he needs to get such a sophisticated device. He can't deny how satisfying it was to get the pictures without scaring away the subjects.

This did not last long, as when the mermaids noticed the moving plants, they all dived within the ocean in unison. The feral woman had tried to grab hold of one before they disappeared within the deep body of water, desperate for them to stay.

Then, silence. The human looked around before moving towards one of the trees. She ran as an ape, using all of her limbs to move across the ground. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, Clarence had stood. Thoughtlessly acting, Clarence knew she would disappear again, for now long, he didn't know.

This could be his last time to make an imprint for some time, maybe months.

Revealing himself to the feral woman, Maurice gripped his wrist, short nails digging into his flesh. Clarence jerked himself from the other's vice-like grasp, moving forward as the savage woman growled lowly, giving warning to the man who slowly approached her.

He pulled back the flap of his baggage, moving slowly as the undomesticated woman stared intensely, circling his form. He pulled the tin from his carrier, bringing it to his chest and twisting open the metallic container to grab some of the mushy potatoes. The girl pressed her side to the tree, glaring as she bared her teeth.

Clarence wanted to vomit at the state of the teeth, with black buildup at the tops, yellowed to the point of almost brown, they looked as if they had never been cleaned. He couldn't imagine what reeked from her mouth. She needed a dentist or some physical hygiene. He reached within the container, before holding out the boiled mush.

He held the food in his open palm. He had often fed stray animals as a schoolboy, so he applied the same tactics he had then. Slowly approaching her, he halted a few steps in, holding the food to allow her to come to him. Something like food would always sweeten the deal for the sick, skinny dogs that dwelled near his school's courtyard.

She paused, moving closer at the palm. She brought her head closer, smelling the food cautiously. She slowly reached her hands towards his palm, taking the food from them before she crawled away. She was eating it fiercely, mouth smacking as she squinted her eyes, the taste and texture was something she was unused to. As her expression twisted, she chewed sluggish, hoping to understand if she liked it or not.

He couldn't imagine her ever tasting anything boiled, nor potatoes from the natural vegetation that grew from Forest's grounds and around the trees. After she had swallowed the mush in her mouth, she began to crawl against the trees. After a moment, smacking away the potatoes in her mouth, she had started to shriek. She barely finished getting the food down her throat when she began her screaming.

Maurice had jumped from his perched position, reaching to grab Clarence and pull him back to the safety of the shrubbery. He was sure she was calling an alarm of her people, going to get them attacked. Maurice grabbed the young man, yanking him to the ground before the tree the feral woman had pressed herself against began to shake.

The form slid down, using their rough textured palms on both pairs of limbs to glide down the bark as if it was a smooth pole- a normal hand would be bruised and sliced from trying such a thing. The form had slid from the tree the woman had pressed herself to, reaching towards the woman. In turn, the mortal was squawking up a storm, making grabby hands for the ape.

This creature was the same species of the first animals they had found her with. However, this one differed from the last ones they had seen. This one had wrinkles carved in the hairless portion of their face, with white, silver, and light black fur that covered their skin. The protracted armed primate snatched the woman's arm, swinging her to their chest. The woman sighed in relief, gripping onto the fur of the animal and holding onto them tight.

The woman seemed accustomed to the jerking, only wrapping her arms around the neck of the other, before her legs ringed across the other's shallow hips. The primate took no notice of the other humans, using her claws to crawl upon the bark lazily. The woman, however, gave a concise wave to the men as she disappeared far up the trees.

Maurice paused, trying to process the current events as it all happened so quickly, to Clarence acting like a maniac to the woman having some alerting call to the other species. The information swam in his head, almost making the poor man cross-eyed.

When he gained his bearings, he twisted his torso towards the younger. "Zounderkite! What happened to not wasting it? Do you realize what you have done?" His voice was coarse, cutting the air like snapping leather as he struggled to his feet, using his cane for support. Between his harsh words, he was allowing himself to groan from the pain of his knees, having to jump and move so quickly.

"Maurice, I wanted to be known by her, I only fed her some-"

"Clarence, you interacted and disturbed the natural order, something I have told you multiple times not to do."

"There is no way that a human woman in this Forest is natural; I want to gain her trust; we get closer; we might learn more of the animals. They have been hidden from us, but when we saw one of them." He gestures towards the lake, "She is with them. We never saw one of them until we saw one with her. She could be the key to knowing this Forest."

Maurice mumbled under his breath, only stewing more within his anger. He felt rage for being disrespected by such a younger companion, trying to teach the expert on what he knew. After releasing the held air he had kept in his lungs, he decided to think calmly.

Clarence, the bright-eyed college graduate who had never even left London, had fed a feral woman they found in the most dangerous Forest known to man. But she lived there, unharmed by the other creatures. She was able to even call for one of them, and communicate with the fish creatures that have longed disappeared from the pond's mossy surface.

He hated Clarence was right. They had struggled to meet any life that was not rooted in the ground. The only animals they had met were alongside the woman. The woman almost felt like the guide to the creatures, and he hated it. Maurice hated he was not the first human to discover the Forest, to step foot in the place God had kept secret since the dawn of time.

Instead, a girl, a simple girl who paraded herself as an animal got his right, his right as a man of science who sacrificed everything he had to get here, but she had been gifted the human of the Forest. The protector, it seemed, what he wanted to be. He had wished to lead this land, to colonize and rule it as the proper one who had discovered it. The emotions hit him like bricks, the thoughts he tried to keep to himself was boiling over- and becoming targeted towards Clarence, the poor young man who saw this much clearer than he could.

"We discovered a feral woman in this place… It's a miracle. It proves we could survive here. We can colonize!" Clarence grabs the shoulders of the older gentleman, his eyes full of passion, of knowing he was changing history. Maurice couldn't fault him for his excitement, perhaps he would make mistakes, but that was why Maurice was here, to take the new scientist under his wing to teach him all he knew.

No matter how he felt, he had to calm. "I, we have no choice now, do we?"

Clarence's smile only grew, knowing he had won the argument. "No, she will expect food now- like a stray."

"It's why I never fed the strays." Maurice shook his head, "Far too needy, too dependent."

Clarence's eyes had a glint to them, something Maurice couldn't describe. Sinful, a look of lust and greed that he saw in Colonizers' eyes when they have the land before them. Maurice had little time to analyze the meaning of such a look, as the men were quick to return to the task of research, and discussing what the feral woman meant.

Hiking through the vast land was short that day, Maurice's injured knee had finally slowed him down, and all three men left the Forest. Nelson had to walk back himself to receive a motorwagen for Maurice, for he could not handle such a walk today.

When he returned with the transport, all three men began driving back to the campsite where the poor medic would do what he can with Maurice's knees.

The ride from the long corridor of the dirt bridge was quiet. Maurice was far too focused on the tense throbbing in his legs to continue any conversation, rubbing his weak knee, hoping to slight the pain. Nelson was enjoying the short moment of his trip without scientific terms and theories constantly whirling in the air. The quietness was a welcome change from the debates the two scientists and the rest of the crewmen would carry on about.

Clarence was staring outside the pane of the motorwagen, thoughts darting in his mind like a pinball bouncing in a billiards table, the flippers forcing his ideas to new possibilities the next time they would meet the girl again.

The photographs, blurred and shaky, could not correctly illustrate her appearance. Despite her being on her hands and feet, he saw how short she was- it made sense. Malnourished from the lack of vitamins and minerals, he could have easily mistaken her as a younger child than a woman. He wanted to see her stand on those legs, to see how she compared to him at full height. Regardless of her undernourishment, she was pursy. Of course, it wasn't uncommon for someone who was undernourished to be overweight; she could have a plentiful supply of calories, but without the essential nourishment she would need.

Clarence thought of the poor state of her teeth and physical hygiene, how he could fix all of those things, and take her to London. The problem was Maurice, with his holier than thou stance upon the natural order.

When the motorwagen returned to the campsite, all three men went their separate ways. Maurice wobbled to the medic. Clarence left for his tent, and Nelson wanted nothing more than to clean his weapons. The three men all busy in their own mindsets.

Maurice would spend that evening adding towards the pile of letters he had written, the majority of the letters would never be sent, and only served for mental release. His loved ones would only expect the letters nearing his return. He would have to wait until the blimp came at the end of the year to send any of the messages, as the Messenger Pigeons' radio wave would have interference as any ship's motherboard.

The robotic birds he had sent before had fallen straight into the turbulent waters below only a few short miles just off the coast of the village towards the Mountains. He knew then that he had no chance to send any letters in the eye of the storm. He wished he could send messages after letters to Theodosia and Enoch; the middle-aged servant he had left to care for his house and his adoptive son.

The letters, even if they rarely saw the light of day, was therapeutic. He felt he was having a conversation with someone, anybody, but his co-workers. He wanted to talk to someone who he chose to love and desire to speak to, instead of for professional purposes. Of course, other than Clarence. However, Clarence was a child swept up in his stew of morals and self fantasy of what he wanted the girl to become, Maurice had little time for such things.

The study of a feral woman, alongside the newly discovered creatures, was nothing but a once in a lifetime chance for research. He wouldn't spoil this chance with the ideals of a correct society, where a feral woman could come to civilization and grow to be normal. No, she would never be normal. Her development years, her years required to learn how to be a proper mother and wife has been wasted on survival in the wild.

She could never transition to society the way he knew Clarence desired. Maurice could understand the bright-eyed mindset of fixing her, but he had read the reports of multiple feral cases. It was nearly impossible to help a young child of twelve after living in the wild for so long, how would a woman, someone fully grown, take to somewhere like London?

To study her was to investigate the creatures of the Forest, and if she truly knew the Forest, she would be just what they needed to comb the area for a colony, years down the line. She was useful, but Maurice refused to see her as more. When the territory began settlement, the wild woman would most likely become caged in a Psychiatric hospital for the rest of her years.

This was the reality of her situation, a lost cause, but an interesting study on both the human psyche and the inhuman creations that roam the Forest.

His mind lazily learched from thoughts, writing down his mindset into formal documents cleansed him, allowing him to understand his situation better. He could also feel less lonely this way, in his little fantasy of speaking to his beloveds once more. He missed the modern luxuries of his home, where Theodosia would set his fireplace ablaze before plating his supper, where he could read a novel in peace and worry not for his weaker knee.

Mindlessly, his fingers trace over the pained kneecap, attempting to soothe the pain from his joints. Years of walking had worn down his legs, and now he was paying the price for such a lifestyle. The moment he could stand, his father had taken him off on research missions and hunting, he lived out in early settlements and newly discovered lands, right beside his father.

Those days he would remember fondly, days he wished he could reminisce about with his son. All those thoughts were for another day, he told himself, sealing the leather journal pages before discarding the possession back under his sleeping bag of sorts. It was two blankets folded in two and sewn together except for one side, and he found it comforting.

Two blankets that held the scent of his home brought him the sanity he would need for the year in the wild. Unlacing his boots and rolling underneath the sheets, he didn't bother to change into the thin sleepwear. He only undid his shoes, belt, and sometimes, when the heat got too much, removing his buttoned shirt.

As he closed his eyes, the throbbing of the knee and the gentle breeze against the tent's fabric slowly dissolved, drifting off to slumber. He had no dreams; his mind and thoughts were blank until the following morning when he would wake. He would stir from the sun's blistering rays of heat shining down on him, or from one of the crew members being forced to rouse him. Though, it had been quite some time since that was necessary: The first few weeks having to grow accustomed to his schedule once more.

Clarence had fallen asleep much sooner than Maurice, who had stayed awake to think and analyze. After a supper of grits and pasta, he had taken his place in his tent to sleep the evening away. The younger man escaped to his dreams, without having to try and be friendly with the crewmen or listen to Maurice's rambling of colonies. He could dream of home, his favorite literature, all the sane things a man would create in his mind.

He laid in the make shifted sleeping bag; his mind created a scene before him. Recently, he had dreamed of lounging around the home, or sitting in an air-conditioned room reading a newspaper, yet, this fantasy was different.

Clarence stood in front of a tropical waterfall, a sprinkling of rain came down with the soothing sound of thunder echoing far behind him. The chirping of birds and the quiet ambiance of a forest was all he could hear. It was so calm, unlike the Forest, it was not cold and damp. Instead, it was a perfect sunny temperature, with a breeze grazing his warmed flesh. He felt the grassy sand underneath his feet, the sun kissing his face, it felt so vivid, as if he was alive and awake.

He wasn't alone in his creation, only a foot away from him was the woman from the wild, playing in the waters. She splashed about, acting more of a child at a pool than the grown woman she was. She looked up, using a circling gesture of her wrist to beckon him to the cleaner waters. He blinked slowly, moving forward from the shore to the fresh body of water that awaited him.

Clarence came to the pond. He took a breath before stepping within the watery depths, the sensation was welcoming, unlike in reality stepping inside would cause him to shiver of the sudden cold feeling over his feet. It was warm, ready for him already. The woman ran towards him, presenting him with a toothy grin. Her teeth were a perfect pearl white, unlike the rotten teeth she possessed.

She was different, the black grime that stained her form was gone, some dirt had been smeared on her cheeks and torso, but he could see her pale body. She was still nude, but she looked so much more exposed without the dirt. Her long hair was tangled, but not the sweaty mass as it was in reality. She smelled and appeared so much cleaner, more accessible for Clarence to feel lust after.

The being before him was only a sexualized version of the true woman in the Forest. She stood before him, her fragile hands finding their way on his flat stomach, invading his space as she stared up at him, keeping eye contact as she grew closer. She was fisting the fabric of his one-piece suit, worrying the shirt portion against her nails.

The woman only went to his chest, and she looked up at him with the same wonder and awe she had when he offered her the food. Her lips were plumper, possessing a bright pink hue, one that only lipstick could provide. Thoughtlessly, he grabbed her chin. The submissive creature allowed him to move her face side to side.

Clarence leaned over the woman before he yanked her chin forward, smashing the lips together. Of course, the passion was shared, her arms finding their way to loop around his neck. She was soft, from her full lips to the silky skin that pressed to his bare neck. His hands traveled lower, gripping her waist as he forced her mouth open with his tongue.

She panted, her voice high pitched, so naive and youthful. Clarence had lost himself to the fantasy, of tainting the woman and taking her as his own he barely registered he had woken until he noticed the stillness, slowing his humping motions. His eyes flutter slowly, realizing he had woken himself from the erratic movements he had begun in his sleep.

Sweat glued loose hair to his forehead and his clothes to his body. His pants were tightened, causing him to flop on his back. He took a moment, before unbuttoning his bottoms and pulling his cock from the sealed fabric that had made it uncomfortable. He didn't care for the time or if the crewmen would find him, arching his neck against the pillow as he stroked himself.

Thumbing the tip, he tried to relive the fantasy of the waterfall, her fingers raking through his hair as he placed her on the beach, her back pressed to the sand as he leveled himself to thrust inside. She was moaning, gripping against him as she opened her legs. Pure and untouched, ready for someone of her species to whisk her away, take her away from the Forest and the place she was meant to be.

He continued to pump himself to this dream, allowing shaky groans and sharp hisses to escape his chapped lips. Thrusting inside her, she would cry out, holding him so tight, scratching down his back as she wrapped her legs around his hips, pushing him deeper. Her hair was scattered out, lips parted as she groans, her arms clinging to him- she would need for him.

Itching closer, his mind raced through thoughts of her atop him, moving against his length, to her in his bedroom in London, wearing some lingerie he had once seen in a store catalog as he pulled her to bed. He could fix her faults, poor hygiene, and feral behavior, creating the image in his head.

He shudders, climaxing against his palm as he laid in bliss for several moments. The pent up frustration and anger from the trip were sliding from his mind. The glow of the after orgasm washed over him. He lazily wiped his dirtied hand the inside of his sleeping bag. He concealed his flaccid penis under the wraps of his undergarments and pants, he rolled on his side, curling further into himself as he now had to live with the fact he pleasured himself to his research.

The many thoughts of her had ran through his head, burning a hole within his skull as he gripped the hair of his mane, guilt, and disgust creeping upon him before he released a breathy hiss. He was a man, a man that had needs, and a nude woman had come before him. She walked on her hands and feet, allowing her legs to be spread as her knees bent always. She exposed herself to everyone, if she were a woman of society, he wouldn't have had these sinful thoughts of her.

She needed to be civilized, to learn how to behave and become a true woman.

She needed him.

The two scientists had risen early, Maurice had struggled his way to the medic, allowing the doctor to apply some ointment on his knee before the trip to the Forest, the long hiking of today made him dread it so. The pain traveled down his leg, his ankle even aches after walking for so long. He loves the outdoors, hiking and camping were something he used to do so much before old age had taken its toll.

Clarence was quiet that morning, saving some of his breakfast as last time in his tin for the girl in the wild. He was suited up, ready to embark before the rest of the men. But with Maurice's knee problems, that would be expected. Maurice took longer to finish his meal, savoring the eggs they had stored up for the journey.

Despite the episode Maurice created over feeding the girl, he had placed some of his leftovers in a tin container. Clarence felt nothing but smugness when he realized the older man's motives as they board the motorwagen to pass the bridge.

The crowd had once hiked the mile travel to the island, not wanting to waste their resources of Motorwagens for returning off the mountains. Unfortunately, for Maurice's knee, the two knew he could not handle the long walk today. The three piled into the motorwagen without a word, and towards the isolated Forest.

Underhill was quiet as usual, driving as the two men spoke of their current findings. The conversation had grown dry since the majority of their conclusions was plant life, but after finding the sea beings, the two had the spark to speak for hours of what that could mean.

The ride was short, Underhill parking near the Forest's barrier as usual, as the three clamber out of the automobile to crawl through the openings once more. Underhill trekked his way through, pushing past the barks and lush plants to enter the Forest.

Clarence stood beside the older man. "Can I help you inside?"

"My knee will ache no matter who coddles me. I can walk through fine." Maurice would not slow down the research, become the burden of the crew. He was the reason this was possible, without him, and his lifetime of the investigation, no one would be here without him. He wasn't an older man who troubled people with his nonsense. He turned to slide through on his side, using his cane to try and support his weight.

He shifts through the vines and trees, nearly falling as he had to use all of his strength to stand on his feet. Clarence hurried through the mass of green life to find Maurice. "Mau-"

"I am fine. Let's continue." He gripped the cane, walking towards Underhill, who had patiently awaited the man. The fog rolled across the lands; silhouettes were blurred, barely visual as the men continue to explore the area.

"The fog has never been this intense." Clarence began, walking alongside the men. He could hardly see his hand in front of his face. Underhill rolled his shoulders.

"If you wish to see fog, come to Russia." Underhill almost chuckled, a cracked smile hung on his lips that made Clarence almost made him have a second take. Nelson was a pragmatic man, who treated every person as a lower co-worker, Clarence had to contain himself when the man had slightly chuckled.

"Indeed? You were born in the Russian District?" Clarence hurried to the man’s side, hoping to continue this ice breaker for the two. He prayed for another person on this trip to enjoy his company, even if it was an obsessed hunter.

"Born and raised until I was four, then we moved to the Capital District."

"Ah, beautiful place, Britain is. Which region were you raised in?"

It had gone over Maurice's head. All his thoughts were centered on the freshly returned pain of his knee. The ointment had worn off, for how much budget he had on a doctor and supplies, he had expected the workforce of a pharmacists office.

Ointment, for a hurt knee, what a lazy solution. He trudges forward, using the cane to allow weight off the leg. He was hiking at a further distance from the two other men, who were lost in a discussion of their own. They did not notice how Maurice slowed, losing both of their shadowy figures in the murkiness.

The man took a few more selected steps, before leaning against a tree closest to him. "Clarence!" He shouted, awaiting any reply. "Clarence! Nelson!" All of his yellings fell onto deaf ears, sliding his weakened body down the bark. He flopped onto the overgrown floors below, panting heavily as the knee finally had some solace.

He didn't know how long he laid there, lying his head upon the trunk, eyes heavy with exhaustion already. The realization hit him, causing his stomach to turn violently. He would probably never finish his exploration, his advancing age holding him back from his reward, his earned prize.

His eyes flutter closed, thinking of how he barely saw his adoptive son or siblings for his pursuit of the Forest. How he wasted years to come here, and now? He was a wasted man who might die in this Forest.

Maybe it was a deserving fate.

Darkness encased him, drifting into slumber as his body was hidden away by the fog. His sleep was peaceful, despite how stressed he was when he had fallen asleep, escaping the pain for longer. When he had first injured his knee, and back then, at the brightness of young manhood, he used to shake it off. Now, it only grew, like a fungus.

He was awakened from his misery from something touching him, unlike a predator who would eat their prey, hands ran over his clothes, repeated as if to savor the texture. The hands roam his bottoms, tops, and begun to touch his shoes before he had the strength to open his eyes.

Halpine had nearly forgotten how he had fallen asleep; startled shudders crawl up his spine at the sight of the feral woman holding his excellent leg, lifting his shoe to take a look. Maurice gulped, both hands firmly pressed to the ground for support before the girl looked back at him.

She had been too far either time for him to gaze into her eyes, round and wide, colored sea green and full of curiosity. They were full of the innocence of an animal, untainted of the sins of men. The woman continued eye contact, scooting her way back to his face.

Her fingers lift to touch his jawline. The other's fingers interlocking with his dark brown and grayed mutton chops, seeming interested by his facial hair. The touches were gentle and slow as if he was the easily spooked animal. He barely had time to register most of what she was doing, watching as her hand not touching his beard grabbed his wrist, and pressed it to her cheek.

The contrast of their skin was clearer to see now. Maurice's suntanned skin was so dark against her colorless flesh. He had spent a lifetime outside, basking in the sunlight for years. But she had probably never seen the sun or felt the heat of the rays. She leaned closer, touching his face, brushing over his eyebrows, nose, lips- he had to admit, it was a bit disgusting.

Her dirtied hand felt over his face, head tilting as she had felt her own a couple of times to sense the differences. His hand stayed where it was placed by her, slowly falling back into his lap. With her being so close, he got to see more of her face.

She wasn't a woman, in reality, a girl in her mid-adolescent- his first theory was she was older, he knew now that wasn't right. She had a juvenile appearance, underneath all the grime and scars: She possessed oval, full lips, alongside a round jawline, her face had been drained of any coloring except the stained dirt. Her fingernails were surprisingly short, peacefully tracing over his wrinkles and whiskers quietly.

Maurice supposed she had her full, as she slowly moved back, glancing towards his carrier, before looking back at him quietly. As if a pet begging for food, her hand slowly reached towards it, but she didn't understand how to undo the flap as Clarence had before offering her the treat.

"You're hungry." He mumbled, knowing she had no possible way to understand him. The language barrier between the two was far more than English and Spanish, but some primate's form of communications with sounds versus his proper language. He pulled the flap of fabric back, pulling out his tin container.

He twisted it open for the girl, sitting it between them as she was quick to hurry towards him, she glanced at the canned beans for a moment. The seeds had been canned with a gravy mixture of brown sugar and some molasses. Giving it a sweetened punch, she used her closed fingers as a scoop, shoveling it down her throat before she pinched her face, coughing lightly after each sampling of the food.

Of course, she didn't grow up on candies and sweets as a child, or sweet teas and coffees as an adult. She might have never tasted sugar cane, so this must have been a surprise for her system. She still fed herself each finger full, smacking away. Her mouth hung open, having the gravy drip from her lips and onto the forest grounds.

She ate, moved, and acted like a primate. It was so surreal for a human to perform so. He could hardly picture her being human in this state. How in God's green Earth did she ever make it here? The last colony attempt was over thirty years ago, and they had all died on the other mountain. Did her family crash from a powered aircraft and she was the survivor? They had yet to see any accident near the island, but the Forest was so vast.

It did not matter how she might have become part of the Forest, she was there now, and Maurice needed to focus on research. He tried to sit up, but the throbbing in his knee made him fall right back on his backside. The girl squawked in confusion, moving from the tin she had been licking the dregs of to circling him. She had begun to touch over his body, his chest, stomach, thighs, pressing down and watching his expression.

He had attempted to pry her off, he didn't want her to place pressure on his kneecap, but the moment she touched his bad knee, he hissed through clenched teeth, thrusting himself against the bark in instinct.

She paused at his reaction, before scampering off from the right. Her running style was of an ape, using both hands and feet to take off, her form dissolves through the mist, and he was left alone again. He wondered if he had been abandoned as he was lame, or if she had gone to get help.

The idea of being so close to the eight feet creatures was almost terrifying. He couldn't deny the amazing opportunity it would, to see them so closely and how they would react to something injured. Hopefully, it wouldn't be to kill him.

His eyes grew too heavy; his mind was slipping back into the unconscious. For how long he was asleep was unknown, but he awoke to the thumping of a body beside him. He was stirred violently by the scurrying of the chubby girl. Within her mouth, she had been smacking on something red and thick. The sludge dribbled down her chin, making him wince as she drew closer, her foot pressed to his thigh as he had the sinking fear she would want to spit that into his mouth.

He shudders, gagging at the mental image as he moved his head away. However, she had no interest in his face. Instead, she spat the substance into her palms. She then slapped her hands onto his knee. He let out a startled gasp at the heated mass that was applied to his kneecap.

"Oh, dear lord!" He exclaims, his first instinct was to wipe it off, but the girl gripped his wrists, moving them away from his leg as she squeaks and yelps. Her noises felt unnatural being made from her vocal cords. It sounded right for the primates to squeal like that, with high pitched voices- but hers had to pitch higher than her natural tone.

The muck against his hairy leg started to burn, slowly before it was near blistering. The two began to wrestle a bit, with him trying to get it off before he found acidic burns as she kept moving his hands away, she continued to squall. She tried so hard to explain whatever she was doing. He had little time for this, and god it hurts.

The moment it grew so hot he knew he must have third-degree burns, it became as if ice on him. He curled slightly, his head lowering in the shock as the girl let go of his wrists, wiping her own hands against the grass before she touched at his shoulders. The cold feeling left sooner than the burning, leaving his knee numbed. It had no sense. It took him a moment to realize the subtle throbbing had gone.

Maurice's head swung to the girl, as she slowly scooted to his side, flicking off the hardened paste as the effect she had wanted passed. He was quick to join her, wanting it off him as soon as possible. The bend of his leg had no lasting burns, only a faint redness, as if an ice cube had run over his skin. The girl grinned, showing her yellowed teeth as she moves away; using her legs and keeping her knuckles as support.

He gripped the cane he had carelessly abandoned when he had fallen, still lying beside him. He used the tree as support, forcing his weight upon his legs once more. He was expecting some sort of pain from his patella, the shooting ache that has poisoned his time. As he stood fully on both legs, his knee continued to stay numb.

Maurice took a moment, realizing she had healed him, somehow. For how long it lasted, he could not tell, but he had little care for such a thing. The man could walk, he felt like running a mile or jumping into the trees like the primates she lived with. No dull ache as he walked, no searing pain when he tried to hurry in his step.

He stood, feeling the might of a young man with a new leg. His eyes laid on the crouched girl. Maurice began walking, heading towards the girl who only looked back, perfectly still as he stood before her. She stares up, awaiting his reaction to her. Maurice could only watch in wonder. She has shown him a new form of potential medicine, and he wanted to know everything about it.

He could only imagine what this could mean for humankind, the breakthroughs that could succeed with something a seemingly magical cure. He needed to see it, to hold it within his grasp.

The scientist reached lower and tapped his fingertip to his kneecap. “Show me where you found it.” He spoke softly, with a gentleness he honestly had no idea he possessed. She inches towards the red hue left from the paste on his skin, only glancing to where he had pointed before she seemed to understand what he wanted. She began crawling towards the direction the savage woman had run off to when she realized he was hurt.

Maurice was quick to follow, having a spring to his step now that his leg no longer held him back.

The travel with her through the Forest was something new and awe-inspiring, the flowers blossomed when she walked past, with the once faint chirping and yelps of animals grew as she continued down the path. She sometimes lifted her head and squawked in reply. Was she human, or a fae of a forest? Had he met a guardian that was not of this world?

She had the pattern of her arms making a step first, then her feet. It was interesting. It looked awkward for a human body to contort in such a way. However she was moving quickly, keeping a steady pace.

Maurice had not the slightest clue of how long they had walked, yet, when the feral girl darted off in a specific direction- he figured they were close. He began to rush after her, feeling a sudden pride wash over him. He was able to chase someone, to keep up.

His mind kept wandering to trying to catch Enoch in the halls, only to be forced to plop on the stairs only moments in their run because of his knees. He could almost see the child looking back with a look of pure disappointment. Shaking his head, he sped up after her. She glanced back, assuring he was following. She looked so much like Enoch, he had to turn his head away to collect his thoughts.

She stops in front of a tree that looked out of a storybook, the pale bark of the other trees contrasted the dark, oak trunk. This tree was thick, with long, twisting roots that came from the ground and made loops in the field. The branches, unlike the other trees, came down to the baseline to the top, he had never seen branches touching the floor before. This tree seemed to go past all the rest of the trees, as the tree went past the leave roof the rest made.

This one was so unlike the others. It appeared to have been plucked from another place. She came to this tree, careful and gentle of the roots and branches that hung low, locating a side of the oak. She climbed on top of the roots, as she started to crawl across the elevated roots and base of the tree.

She only had to explore for a few moments before she looked back at him squawking once more. He groaned, beginning to crawl onto the roots.

When he came to her side, she sidestepped to display what she had been searching for. Plump, large berries grew from vines that were protected with thorns. These berries were stewed red, with black dotting. They were as large as the tip of a thumb. He reached and extracted one from the vine.

He was startled by how hardened the skin of the berry was, it was hard as rocks, and he had trouble to squish it between his fingertips. The flesh of the fruit was as sturdy as rich glass. When she realized he was trying to pop the fruit, she gripped his wrist, yanking his hand towards her and ripping the thing from him.

Gasping, he stepped away when she stole the berry from him. She held it within her palm, squeezing it until he heard it burst. Unclenching her fingers, he watched steam swimming from her flesh, as she waved the squished liquid off her hand. Her hand was burned by the heat of the plumped red sustenance, a large, black seed fell alongside it. The seed was a bit smaller than the actual berry. Was that why it was so hard?

She licked it off her fingers, used to the heat of the berries. She had protected him from the pain of the berry, and if it was so hot on his skin after being popped, he couldn’t imagine the blistering heat she must have just endured to prove the point of _don't pop it._

Maurice grabbed a test tube from his bag, clipping the berries inside for later testing. If these could be extracted for medicine, this could change the path of modern healing practices. Addictive painkillers and most corrective surgeries could be a thing of the past. The amount of money they could sell these for, and the money he could make for discovering it- was unimaginable.

“You just helped a lot of people, little one.” He grinned, patting the head of the girl as she tilted her head at his action. He chuckled, the look in her eyes was endearing. With a few strokes of her mane, he began to move his hand only to have her grab his wrist.

“So needy.” He began to stroke her crusted mane; he could feel the knots and filth underneath his gloves. How long has she been here? He could only wonder, he did hope one day he could speak to her, to understand the secrets she kept from them. His daze snapped when she moved her head away from him, hurrying from the large roots she had climbed up before turning and starting down a path.

He blinked a few times, climbing from the great foundation of the tree and towards the girl. He knew this tree was particular, somehow, so he tried to memorize the journey to wherever she was taking him. Pondering where she would lead him next, he had his answers when he heard the faint conversation of his crewmen.

”Where is he?”

”Goddamn it. The old man just disappeared!”

”What if some predator got him?”

He huffed at the words, treating him as some nursing home patient rather than the great scientist he was. She halted when they neared the group, giving him a final glance before pressing her forehead to his thigh for a few seconds before he could pet her once more, she ran from the scene.

He watched her for a moment, quiet as she hastened, her bellowing footsteps fading as he knew he needed to return to his crewmen, she had done whatever she had wanted to do and left him just as quick. She healed him and shown him the berries that did this. The feral woman- girl, that is, had taken an interest in him. He peeked downward at his legs, she had some human in her, if he could reach further in and grab it.

As if Clarence had rubbed off on him, he felt excitement for their next chance meeting. She could really be the answer to getting to know this Forest and finding everything that had hidden inside and what a thing to show the king. A human girl found in the Forest. He could already see the media becoming obsessed with her, and the cash he could gain from such a story of her adapting into society.

He stepped from the bushes, watching the two men run to him. Clarence was the only one who had valid concerns for his well-being; it was clear from his many questions and looking over the man. “What happened?”

“My knee, I had to take a break. The girl found me, and healed me.” He bent his knee in midair, making Clarence’s eyes widened. Maurice could hardly move the damned leg before. Nelson stepped forward, having a closer look at the man. He was shocked beyond words, did the Forest possess some sort of magic?

“If we use what she healed me with, we found God’s healing elixir.” Maurice held his arms out to gesture how great it was, only for Clarence to bend his knees to see the redden hue of the paste had left behind on the man’s kneecap.

Nelson rolled his shoulders, “You think it could help my back aches?” He questioned, patting his back with a quiet groan. Standing beside the other man, Maurice could only grin up at the gentleman.

“Oh dear Underhill, it could do so much more! It’ll make your back feel young again!” Maurice came to the other man’s side, wrapping an arm over his shoulders. “I think we just made a fortune here!”

Underhill appeared more than pleased by that, grinning right back at the other man. Clarence was less concerned with the money, but more with the logical reasoning almost being thrown out as some sort of paste just cured Maurice, and perhaps even kept the human girl alive. It could explain the lack of major scars.

“This Forest, it is Unearthly.” Clarence mumbled to himself, touching the red crust of whatever was left on the man’s leg. If it was true, if something healed Maurice like this, this could prolong the human’s lifespan, even make it where senior citizens could be as active as school children.

“Oh Clarence, this is only the beginning.” Maurice lifted the younger man, gripping his shoulders. “In a year time, we might have all the answers to the World’s problems.”

#Original Work #Original Characters #steampunk #steampunk story #steampunk writing #writing #feral woman #feral #Fantasy #Science Fiction and Fantasy #Yandere #Yandere Story #The Forest of God's Missing Eye #yandere writing #Maurice Halpine #Clarence Dawyon #n.s.f.w #one short n/s/f/w scene

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